A Change of Rules, No Change of Heart
by Etzuko
Summary: Takes place at the final moments of the Hunger Games Finale in book one. Peeta's POV. Own twist.  A change of the rules doesn't mean that I will have a change of heart.


_**A Change of Rules – No Change of Heart**_

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><p><em>Dear reader of this fanfiction, may the odds be ever in your favour, Spoiler Alert for 'The Hunger Games' hereby disclaimed. <em>

_I have read the trilology and watched the movie while writing this fanfiction, however I believe very little if any spoilers regarding Catching fire and Mockingjay are provided. The story takes place in the Hunger Games Arena of the very first book. The situation is the finale, after the 'new' rules of two winners have been revoked. Peeta's perspective on the happening, and own spin-off of the turn of events. _

_Characters owned and made up by Suzanne Collins._

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><p>My hands shiver. Only one of us will survive. The rules had been revoked to their original state. I know I should be angry for the injustice of the Capitol, furious at the game makers and cursing towards the cameras. I do no such thing, and neither does Katniss. We're just staring at each other, comprehending what they are actually saying, and what that means for us. Only one of us will leave this field alive. My happiness I had moments ago are drained from me faster than I thought possible. Of course it was a set-up; we are dealing with the manipulative bastards from the Capitol after all. Never in the previous 73 years has there ever been more than one victor, why would this year be any different? They just wanted to create a stir, a hype, to amuse the observers further.<p>

"If you think about it, it's not that surprising," I say tenderly and rise to my feet.

I want rage to take over me but I only feel devastated. I already know the outcome of this finale. I will, within minutes or seconds, be dead. My family will probably grief me. Perhaps not my mother, but I hope my father will. I could never kill her, the love of my life, but as the odds where in my favour I managed to save her. That was my objective from the start, make sure we get to the finale and make sure she stays alive. All the tricks I did with the careers, the awful first days when I had to kill other tributes and track Katniss down with them, only to be able to live long enough to help her if she needed, had now finally paid off. Now we had reached the end, and I was still prepared to go on with my original plan. At least I will go down with far better memories together with her than I could ever imagine I would. I grab my knife, ready to finish the 74th annual game off, when Katniss takes the bow and aims at me. I raise my eyebrows in sheer disbelief. Does she really think I could ever hurt her, after what we've said and done the past few days? I throw my knife into the lake where it causes a splash. If she'd rather kill me, I'll let her. Instead she turns red, with what seems to be embarrassment and lower her weapon. I can't help but to think how indecisive girls can be. However this can only end one way. I limp toward her, my wounded leg hurting as I walk.

"No. Do it." I softly place the bow in her hands again. She looks at me with frustration and sadness. She is as beautiful as always, and will be until the upcoming end. My end, that is.

"I can't," she whispers meekly. "I won't." She adds, more firmly. She won't have it that way though. Her care for my life is causing my heart to squirm with joy, just knowing that she worries about me in that respect is enough. But I must be harsh, because she must finish the game the Capitol forced us to play.

"Do it," I repeat, "before they send those mutts back or something. " I don't even dare to think about what other things they could send our way. "I don't want to die like Cato." His whimpers and moans from the past hours are piercing themselves back into my thoughts, and I fear the possibilities of such a thing happening to me. Or, more importantly, to her.

"Then you shoot me," she says angrily, with that anger I couldn't muster. I simply don't have her temper. I refuse to take the weapon she is shoving at me. "You shoot me and go home and live with it!" I realize she is in the same set of mind as I. Like I could never live with killing her, finishing me off would cause her too much grief and sorrow to live with it. That she'd go crazy over it as I would, spend my life blaming myself for being the survivor. And I do not wish for her to witter away in misery, but every cell in my body rejects and refuses the very thought of hurting her.

"You know I can't," I say, and I wish I didn't. I wish I could please her and give her the sweet choice of escape. But I can't. Though, there is something else I can do. Because even if I could never hurt her, I can still hurt myself, even with the knife resting at the bottom of the lake. With that thought I slit off my bandage, making the blood flow freely. "Fine, I'll go first anyway." Katniss drops to her knees before me, pressing her hands against my wound and tries to undo my damage.

"No, you can't kill yourself," she pleads, her eyes frantic and begging. What choice does she leave me, acting this way? I can't kill her, and she won't kill me. And we can't both live, no matter how much I wish for it. The one who kills the other will never be free from guilt, never free from the hunger games.

"Katniss", I say, my voice much more stable than I thought possible at my current strength, "this is what I want." It isn't what I want, not really. But considering my little options, it is the best solution. I want her to understand that, but she still shakes her head in discontent. Her braid, the trademark of my beloved, is falling over her shoulder and tickles my leg gently.

"You're not leaving me here alone," she replies, ignoring my wishes. I take her hand in mine and pull her to her feet, making her lock eyes with me.

"Listen, we both know they have to have a victor. It can only be one of us. Please, take it." I could as well be asking her to bring the other tributes back to life; it would be equally easy. A week ago I would never dare to add the following sentences. "For me." And I pour my heart out for her. I tell her how much she means to me. How much I love her. How I could never have a life without her, even if I would try. How I wish she could let my blood spill so that we wouldn't have to make a choice of who to be crowned murderer. How happy I've been with her the past few days, even with these circumstances. How much she means to me. As I speak her attention is drifting off, and I try to intensify my words, my last chance of letting her know my true feelings and my true self, but to little use. Then she fumbles free a bag I know far too well. The one containing the deadly Nightlock berries. Is she insane? I immediately stop her, my voice returns to its firm state once more, even though I feel weaker than ever. The blood loss is affecting me faster than I thought.

"No, I won't let you."

"Trust me," she whispers. I look into her eyes. What does she mean by that? I do trust her, I trust her with my life. And I want to trust her now, but I don't want to be naïve, and believe in her only so she can end this herself. I search for reasoning in her gaze, and I find it there, asking me for something I can't fully grasp. But I know Katniss, all her expressions. I have watched her for over a decade, and I can tell there's more to what she is about to do than I can understand. So I let her hands go, hoping I made the right decision. She pours a few of the Nightlocks into our palms, mine and hers. "On the count of three?"

That's when I get it. She won't kill me, she won't let the Capitol kill me, and she won't let me kill me. But we will die here. Together. As we cannot live without each other, we will die together. I didn't wish for this. I want her to live so badly, but I know she will be hurting that way, as I will be hurting if it were me. Perhaps this was our only option from the start. This way, neither of us has to suffer. I caress my free hand over her cheek, and lean down to kiss her one last time. As softly and gentle as I can, my lips flutter against hers. I will not deny I am terrified, but having her here makes it all better. Even death. I trace her braid with my fingers one last time. "The count of three," I agree. But I can't stand seeing her die. Instead we press our backs together.

"Hold them out. I want everyone to see," I say. I want the capitol to see our love. Our pain. Our suffering. If they feel for us enough, they might take the rule of two victors back. But I swiftly shake that thought off, it will never happen. But I still want to show them. Show that I am willing to die with her. We start counting as she gives my hand one last squeeze.

"One." There must be something more behind this, I suddenly realize. She wouldn't surrender like this. There must be a trick somewhere.

"Two." We are going to eat the Nightlock, which we both know is deadly. And the Capitol knows it as well, especially after Foxface's death. That's it! She's even more cunning than I thought! We'll do our own manipulation with the bloody Capitol! I just mustn't swallow the berries, just pretend for a brief moment and then spit it out. She's a genius, my girl!

"Three!"

And I feel her take the berry into her mouth just a split second before I follow her lead. Our destiny is settled. But before either of us have time to swallow the voice from the Capitol screams at us to stop - we are the winners. We.

We both spit the berries out as fast as we can, knowing very well there is life or death hanging on how much of the juices we consume. I rub my tongue with my sleeve, spitting and rubbing again. In the corner of my eye I see Katniss doing the same, trying to cough up every last bit of it. She pushes her fingers down her throat and tries to vomit, unsuccessfully. I don't know what alarms me, but something seems wrong. Her sounds don't seem natural, and not in any regard healthy. A cold flash trembles down my spine, my own tries to get rid of the poisonous fruit is unimportant. She falls down on all four as I get a hold of her. I grab her around the waist and press as I was taught years ago by my father. It works, and she manages to spew up the food we had consumed during the day.

"Katniss, breathe! You got to breathe!" I urge her, as she keeps panting heavily. She's getting worse. I realize I don't know how the Nightlock works – shouldn't getting rid of the berry fluids be enough? Or is it spreading so quickly it's no use in trying to stop it? Then why aren't I gulping for air as well? 'Dead in a minute' echoes though the back of my head as I desperately try to do anything to stop what seems to be the inevitable. I keep on trying even after the cannon have marked her death. The voice from the Capitol excuses itself and exclaims me as sole victor. No, it can't be, she is the one who was going to be the winner! They allowed us to both win, they said so! Gradually it starts to dawn upon me that Katniss, the girl I have loved my entire life, as in fact dead. She didn't even get a fair death on the battle field. There is no honour in this death, if there ever is honour in the hunger games. The wished rage still isn't coming, only the awfulness of the happening and the horror reaches me. The pain is unbearable. I can't even cry, I am just a shell of a human being. In the capitol the roars have almost nullified, everyone in shock over the sudden turn of events.

I press her lifeless body close to me, gently but with determination. I reach for the pouch containing the Nightlock. I know there are still some left, we picked far more than the few we had in our hands. The hovercraft is humming above me, so I must act quickly, before they can stop me. I open the bag and take a handful, the audience on the speakers gasping in terror. Let them be worried, I don't care. I don't care about anything anymore. We had won! We had gotten a happy ending, we had survived and we had won! The speaker voice is probably yelling something at me but I can't hear them, because nothing anyone says matters anymore. Katniss is still dead no matter what they do. And shortly enough, as will I. Just as I am about to eat them, one tumbles from my hand into Katniss's.

I stop my movements. I don't even breathe. No. I know I can't live without her. But I can't let her sacrifice be in vain either. I can still fight for her. I can fight for her glory and do everything in my power to stop the Hunger Games, to stop the Capitol from ever having this brute power over us in the districts. I won't die until then. My rage is finally arriving, and I scare my meek old self away. I will make her justice. After that, when all my rage is gone, I will try to deal with her death. I already know I can't, I can't have a life without her in it. But I will fight for her, and do all I can to destroy the capitol as they have destroyed me. Ruthlessly and cruelly. For my vengeance. For the tributes. For the districts. For Katniss.


End file.
